Caecus Transpectus
by Hilarious
Summary: Harry Potter and Severus Snape learn that there's a difference between looking at someone, and looking right through them. Harry has secrets, and Snape reveals himself to be much more than he first appears. SLASH!
1. Chapter 1: 'Just Get To The Platform'

Harry Potter had an uncle. His name was Vernon Dursley. Unfortunately, Mr. Dursley was not a very nice person. In fact, one could say he was one of the worst sorts of people that have ever existed, and Harry knew it all to well.  
  
"Get out of the car Boy!" Vernon hissed at his nephew, hauling him ruthlessly out of the vehicle by the scruff of his neck.  
  
Harry gave a small yelp of pain as his swollen arm was knocked brutally against the grungy car park cement. 'But of course, he wouldn't care about that' Harry thought bitterly. 'When has he ever even spared me a glance? His favorite nephew' Harry rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. Sarcasm, he'd found, helped smother his emotions, dulled the pain. And there'd been plenty of that.  
  
It had been a long two months, and Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had defiantly changed. Gone was the bashful, slightly awkward boy of the past, now he acted more like a machine than anything else. His face was blank and impassive, registering only the most intense emotions, and then only fleetingly. He cooked, he cleaned, he slept, he ate, sometimes, and, oh yes, got knocked about by his uncle. Joy.  
  
The car door slammed angrily, and Harry felt the whoosh of air from the door ruffle his thick black hair. That was close. Still kneeling on the pavement, cradling his arm to his chest, Harry began to formulate a plan. It consisted mainly of getting the hell away from Vernon as fast as possible. So, maybe it wasn't an entirely new plan. It'd worked every time in the past.  
  
Vernon's shiny leather Dock Martins slapped heavily against the concert and Harry could hear his uncle's heavy wheezing breaths closing in. 'Okay, time to blow this popsicle stand. Mission Impossible, take one.'  
  
Ignoring the ache of his ribs as they were jarred against the ground, Harry quickly ducked into a summersault and rolled around to the other side of the car, in a clumsy imitation of the 'good-guy' getaway. He would've snorted at the irony of it all, if the pressure on his battered ribs hadn't completely winded him. 'Some good-guy I turned out to be'. Harry thought cynically, while he struggled to compose his shallow breathing. His thoughts continued on their well worn track while he fought to ignore the throbbing in, well, everywhere. Bruises were nothing new.  
  
The scraped hand would be harder to hide however. He quickly tugged some extra fabric from the huge shirt to tuck around the damaged appendage. The white cloth slowly darkened to vivid crimson. Great.  
  
His thoughts continued upon their downward spiral. 'Just look at all the good I've done, first Cedric, then Sirius!' The pain in his chest intensified and he felt a familiar stinging behind his eyes, but he knew it had nothing to do with his aching torso. 'Think happy thoughts.' He reminded himself clinically, but the mantra sounded fake and empty even in his own head. 'Ah fuck it. Just get to the platform!' There. That was better. 'Just get to the platform.'  
  
Vernon rounded the opposite bumper. Crouching low Harry clearly heard his uncle curse as he realized that Harry had rolled away.  
  
"You won't get away from me that easily freak!" Vernon bellowed as he waddled faster, intent on catching his wayward nephew. "Where are you going to go anyhow? You're a worthless freak; all you ever do is hurt people!" A rather large purple vein was popping out of his forehead, pulsing in time with his accelerated heartbeat.  
  
'I hope it bursts.' Harry thought spitefully, having finally regained some sense of control over his battered body. Then, hugging his bad arm securely to his side, Harry sprung wildly upwards and dashed as fast as he could towards the car parks' exit. The entrance to King's Cross station. His ticket to freedom. There was no way Vernon could catch him now. The man could hardly pull himself out of a car for Merlin's sake.  
  
Yanking the heavy door to the station as hard as his shaky arms would allow Harry threw himself into the entry, and continued running single-mindedly towards his goal. 'The barrier. Just get to the platform!'  
  
That single thought was all that'd been driving Harry for weeks now, keeping him alive, keeping him sane. 'I must get to Hogwarts; just get to the platform.' He was prepared to do whatever it took. Hogwarts was the only place he was safe. Screw Dumbledore, forget his stupid orders. Anywhere had to be safer than where he was, with his uncle. Hell, he'd take Voldemort any day given the choice. Vernon was just so...the things he did were.... He couldn't think about it.  
  
'Just get to the platform.'  
  
Besides, if Dumbledore had known what was going on he'd have wanted Harry to come back. If he'd known what was happening he never would have left Harry on Privet Drive with them. Would he? Harry wasn't completely sure anymore.  
  
In fact, Harry had begun to doubt a lot of things, and his candy loving Headmaster was on top of the list. The summer had defiantly changed his perspective. Being shut up in a cupboard for weeks at a time gave you lots of instance to think, that was for sure. It had taken copious amounts of time, and some serious introspection, but once he gotten past the phase of denial it was painfully obvious to Harry how the Headmaster had been manipulating him from day one.  
  
In retrospect it was a mystery how he'd never noticed it before. The innocuous little trail of clues Dumbledore had scattered before them in their first year. The miraculous appearance of the sword of Gryffindor in the Chamber of Secrets. Okay, Harry was still convinced that third year had been genuine, it was Sirius after all, but the Goblet of Fire?!? Come on! Dumbledore hadn't even tried to help him get out of it. If he'd thought the man lacked subtlety before, there was certainly no question now. If anything, Dumbledore had encouraged Harry to continue and compete, and risk his life.  
  
'And the lives of other students.' The unwanted thought flashed through Harry's mind, but despite its brevity, it lacked nothing in intensity.  
  
Tombstones. Wormtail. Cauldron. Blood. Voldemort. Cedric. Avada Kedavra.  
  
Avada Kedavra.  
  
The gruesome flashback was accompanied by a painful clench in his gut. 'Cedric. All my fault.' It felt like his breakfast was trying to make a come-back. If he'd had breakfast that is, or any other meal in the last four days for that matter. Not bloody likely.  
  
So deep in thought was he that Harry completely forgot to watch where he was running.  
  
"Oof!" Hot white spikes of pain drove down Harry's sides as he hit the ground hard for the second time that day, butt bouncing none to easily against the gum-speckled concrete.  
  
His hands immediately clutched at his chest, trying to support his ribs, and lessen the pain. But in his haste Harry forgot to cross his arms in that special way he'd learned, and the puffy one ended up being squeezed painfully between his chest and his right forearm.  
  
Black spots danced before Harry's eyes, and it took all his will power not to gasp harshly, and put even more strain on his ribs, beginning the cycle all over again. 'It'd taken awhile to learn that one too.' thought Harry bitterly. After a moment the haziness around the edges of his vision faded, and Harry drew a shaky breath, taking stock of himself.  
  
Though momentarily jolted, the hot flares of pain in his ribs would subside, he knew that well enough. His bruises would defiantly be leaving a shade darker than they started. But the make-shift bandage on his hand had held, and saved it from further injury!  
  
His first happy thought of the day was quickly drowned by the feeling of his broken arm, or rather the lack thereof. Though it was a pleasant break form its habitual throbs of agony, the numb, tingly feeling from the fracture down could not be a good sign. 'The bones must've shifted and pinched a nerve.' Harry thought despairingly, while grimacing at the offending limb.  
  
It'd happened before, when he was seven. Vernon had pushed him aside especially hard one morning, and his frail bone had snapped. It'd been his first broken bone. After a quick, and rather sloppy, splint job Harry'd gotten back to work scrubbing the kitchen floor with tears in his eyes. The real damage happened later that day when Dudley had come home from his friend's house. Seeing Harry cradling his arm so protectively to his chest, Dudley just couldn't help himself. One shove later the same tingly feeling had enveloped his arm, the right one that time. It hadn't stopped for weeks, and Harry'd eventually been forced to ask his Aunt Petunia for help. The memory alone made him shiver. Harry stuck by his belief that rebreaking a bone could not aid the healing process in any way. To bad the doctor hadn't been of the same mind.  
  
Getting to Hogwarts was not an option anymore. Now it was a requirement. He had to get his arm splinted properly. No more half-assed kitchen spoon jobs. When he arrived he would snap up some of his famous healing potion, and a batch of Skele-Gro for good measure. Those ribs were giving him more trouble than they were worth.  
  
Having come to a decision and completed the cursory corporeal inspection Harry tilted his head skyward to see what had caused his impromptu date with gravity. To say he was shocked beyond belief would be the understatement of the century. Scratch that, of the millennium. A.N.Guess who! review review review review review review review!!! 


	2. Chapter2: Definatly Not A Good Day

  
  
He was late. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. How come he hadn't noticed the time earlier? 'I'm not that old. Don't start forgetting yourself Severus.' The thought provoked a light scoff, his equivalent of a laugh. 'Old indeed.'  
  
Suddenly a rather solid object came hurtling right at him, bouncing quite spectacularly off of his chest, and landing with an audible grunt on the ground before his brain could even register what it was.  
  
Severus blinked to shake off the chaos of the last few seconds. Reorienting himself he looked down at the grubby figure hunched on the station floor below him. 'Well, we've ascertained that it's human.' He thought sarcastically. Whoever they were they seemed to be in some sort of pain.  
  
'Surly they couldn't have hit the ground that hard.' Severus thought as the person grimaced at his arm. Severus couldn't see a thing through the baggy rags for clothing the person was wearing. 'Wait, backup.' Baggy clothes. Messy black hair. Were those glasses glimmering there? 'Harry Potter. Perfect.'  
  
Plastering a sneer onto his face Severus glared at the boy just as he looked up, and their eyes locked.  
  
'He looks scared.' Severus thought. 'Insolent brat.'  
  
"Get up boy." The command was hissed in an eerie echo of his Uncle's earlier words. Harry shivered again. He couldn't help it; thoughts of Vernon had always provoked those kinds of reactions in him. Oh well.  
  
"Well, come on Potter. I haven't got all day." Severus noticed Potter shiver involuntarily at his tone of voice, and the glazed look in his eyes didn't escape his detection either. 'Best to just get the boy to Hogwarts and be done with it.' At the thought of Hogwarts his mind turned longingly to his vacant potions lab, and the experiments just pleading to be finished.  
  
Harry looked up at his Potions Master, taking in the oily hair, the crossed arms, the sallow skin, the hooked nose, and the yellow stained teeth poking out from beneath his curled lip. 'Go with him? Now? No way in hell. What was Snape doing here anyway?'  
  
Noticing that Potter had yet to lever himself off of the floor Severus forgot himself for a moment. With his thoughts still focused completely on the Liberates solution he was working on he absently extended a hand to help Harry up.  
  
The gesture only proved to confuse Harry even more. He stared at the proffered hand for a moment before deciding to ignore it, and hauled himself upright by pushing his good arm against the pavement, thinking for all the good standing upright had done him so far today he might as well just stay down there.  
  
"Sir?" Harry asked. There was no trace of fear in the question; his tone lacked any of the hesitances it'd held in past encounters. In fact, it was laced with a steely edge that effectively jerked back all of Severus' attention.  
  
'Potter with a backbone? Not possible. How long till...? Shit.'  
  
"Come along Potter! Hurry up! I assume you've spent enough time lounging about on the ground for one day. Though, if memory serves, it would seem it must be a genetic problem.' Severus smirked at the memory, but it was swiftly replaced with his habitual sneer when he remembered the hour. "Let's get to the platform as soon as possible. I have important business to attend to."  
  
Snape stalked away quickly, the crowd melting to the sides at his presence. Harry scrambled along behind, hurrying to catch up and stumbling slightly on the overlarge legs of his ugly gray pants. They were the ones Aunt Petunia had colored all those years ago for Stonewall High. He still hadn't grown into them. The only reason he'd taken to wearing them was because they effectively concealed his sneaker-less feet. Dudley had recently decided that his old, grubby sneakers were much too precious to hand down to "the freak". 'Running in socks should be an Olympic sport.' He thought as his foot landed on yet another discarded plastic luggage tag. 'Ouch, that's bloody sharp!'  
  
Not a shadow of his pain or irritation flashed across his features.  
  
As Harry hopped along he was struck with a thought. 'This is actually the right direction. We're going to the platform!' That was it. 'I'll use Snape to help me get onto the platform and then just jump into the first empty compartment I see. Excellent. I'll get to Hogwarts and avoid that greasy git at the same time!' Satisfied with the situation once more Harry just focused on keeping up with the menacing stalk of Hogwarts resident Potions Master.  
  
Wondering jokingly if his Potions Professors hair was especially slimy this far into the summer hols (and looking forward to reporting the results to one Ron Weasley) Harry took his eyes off of his pants and glanced upwards. To his surprise Snape's hair didn't look greasy at all. In fact, it looked positively... 'Silky.'  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed. Growing up in a cupboard didn't give you a lot of time to contemplate personal hygiene, Harry claimed to be no expert, but how was that possible? When he'd examined his Professor just minutes before the sun gleaming off of his hair could've lit up Los Vegas. Curiosity piqued, he picked up the pace to take a closer look at Snape's face.  
  
It was splashed with his customary sneer, but instead of theh habitual gag reaction at the sight, Harry found himself thinking how cool and suave the man made it look. 'Not to mention dead sexy.' The way his lips curled up minutely at the edges over those white teeth... 'Stop it Harry! These are the lips of your hated Potions Professor you're weighing up! The overgrown bat, the insufferable bastard!' But he couldn't stop looking. There was just something about him. Something had changed, was changing. Something nice... Like his face was...  
  
Then, all of a sudden, Snape vanished.  
  
Having his point of contemplation yanked forcibly from his sight caught Harry off guard, and before he'd even realized what he was doing his hand had gone for his wand to fend off Snape's attackers.  
  
'Voldemort! Deatheaters? Where...? Oh. The barrier.'  
  
Feeling very foolish , and more than a little confused at his impulsive reaction to defend his hated Professor, Harry shot one despairing look at his empty left hand and marched right through the wall that separated Muggle London from Platform 9 ¾. He would have ample time to analyze himself on the train.  
  
Looking from side to side just to make sure he hadn't missed his Professor (not likely, he'd had his eyes right on him for Merlin's sake!) Harry stepped on yet another truant luggage tag and ended up stumbling heavily through the barrier to platform 9 ¾ . The cheery crimson steam engine greeted him, gleaming happily in the morning light. Fluffy white stem billowed good humouredly overhead. Everywhere he looked everything was practically screaming in exultant bliss.  
  
'Happy, happy, happy. Why does everything have to be so bloody cheerful all the time?'  
  
Today was not a good day. Harry scowled as he cradled his arm unconsciously tighter, making sure to keep the break above the level of his heart. His fingers were beginning to swell and adopt a nasty purple tinge, throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He knew that was a bad sign. His hand was raw, his ribs throbbed in protest at all of the movement, his head was light, probably from lack of food, and to top it all off he got to enjoy a day-long train ride with his evil Potions Professor. Peachy. According to the station clock it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. 'This day just keeps getting better and better.'  
  
Harry saw Snape waving him over impatiently in the distance. 'And hanging very un-Snapishly from the rail-car doorway.' he noticed. 'Then again, he hasn't been entirely Snapeish all day.' Harry thought idly.  
  
He was feeling quite wrung out all of a sudden. 'I must've been running completely on adrenaline since escaping from Vernon.' He reasoned to himself as he trudged slowly towards where Snape had disappeared into the train. 'I haven't eaten for two whole days, so there's no chance that's fueling me.'  
  
As Harry exhaustedly pulled himself into the train all thoughts of fleeing to his own compartment were abruptly buried deep within the waves of fatigue coursing through his body. With each new pound in his arm running away again lost its appeal that much faster.  
  
Severus watched as Harry collapsed on the seat across from him. He watched as Harry winced at the minute shifting of his right arm. He watched as Harry pulled his feet up onto the couch and revealed a flash of... sock? He watched as Harry lay very precisely on his side, facing defiantly away from him. He watched as the humungous clothes settled and revealed the form of a much smaller body inside. He watched as the calculatingly blank expression Harry wore slowly melted off of his face. He watched as Harry was dragged inexorably exactly where his exhausted body wanted him to go, to sleep.  
  
Then Severus reached into the stiff folds of robe around him and pulled out a miniature blue potions vial, uncapped the lid, and downed the tiny contents in one brisk swallow. Sighing in contentment he finally let his mind relax, and it wasn't long until he joined his charge deep in slumber.  
  
Just what is 'old' Sevvie up to? Keep reading and find out!!! thanx MILLION to my reviewers!!! I love you all. 


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